


Do You Wanna?

by Bad Samaritan (quodpersortem)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Barebacking, Bondage, First Time, Implied D/s, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Toys, Watersports, bottom!Jensen, implied dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/Bad%20Samaritan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha doesn't like the way Jensen interacts with his fans, and because he doesn't like to confront him outright, he cooks up a plan to punish his boyfriend. Of course, no one ever said that punishment could be fun, too. And Misha sure as hell is going to make sure that it will be. Fun, that is. Not so much a punishment, by the time he's done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Wanna?

**Author's Note:**

> There's a personal story attached to this fic. My friend--I won't mention his name here for privacy reasons--went to Dallascon, and he was very disappointed by the way Jensen treated his friends. I wasn't there, so I don't know what exactly happened, but as my friend said it Jensen appeared to be quite ignorant of his fans even though he did interact with familiars around him (bodyguards, fellow actors, etc.). He nearly signed across his own face in the picture that was handed to him by my friend.
> 
> I'm not judging him for that. I'm not hating on him, nor is my friend. But I don't like seeing my friend sad, so I decided to cheer him up with a little fic.
> 
> Please do read the tags, and take into consideration that I'm talking about heavy watersports here (no piss-drinking though). 
> 
> Most of the dub-con pertains to the recipients' specific request, which includes the lack of safewording. So, uh, if you want to enter a D/s relationship or even just tie someone up for fun, make sure they have a way out. Don't do it like the boys do in this fic, because there might not be any consequences but there might also _be_ consequences. I'm going to stop parenting you now and wish you a happy read.

Misha stalls everything he needs out on his bed, and then goes to his trailer’s living room to wait for Jensen. It doesn’t take long before he arrives with a knock on the door, and Misha is up and asking, “You want a beer?” before Jensen’s even had a chance to sit down.

“Yeah, sure,” Jensen says, kicking off his boots and falling down on the couch. Misha watches him for a while; sees the place where Jen’s shirt rides up to expose his stomach, knows that there are still some of his hickeys hidden under the black band shirt, near his collarbone.

They drink quietly, watching television. It’s been quite an intense day of shooting for both of them, although they haven’t seen all that much of each other lately. Plus, there’s something Misha wants to talk to Jensen about—but that has to wait for a while. 

Misha skips the second and third beer; Jensen drinks both so when he’s finished, Misha tells him to have a glass of water.

“Why?” Jensen asks, frowning at the glass.

Misha smiles, holding Jensen’s wrist steady so no water will spill while he crawls into his boyfriend’s lap. “I have plans,” he tells him, leaning in. “You need to be hydrated.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, used to Misha’s antics by now as he swallows down the liquid—and Misha can’t resist licking a long stripe up his neck, tasting the soap from when Jen washed off the make-up earlier, and tasting the bitter tang of his fresh after-shave on the coarseness of growing stubble.

“Are you horny, or what?” Jensen drops the glass on the couch and Misha growls, pushing his hardening dick against Jensen’s thigh. _Yes_ , he’s horny, and it’s his plan to get Jensen equally hot.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he whispers in Jensen’s ear, getting up to drag him there.

“Whoa, man,” Jensen laughs and Misha takes a deep breath. He hopes everything goes according to plan—but it should, he’s known Jensen for years now and he’s made sure to hide the spreader bars under a sheet on the floor.

“Yeah,” Misha says, and helps Jensen undress. When that’s done, and Jensen is throwing his shirt on the floor, Misha drops on his knees, nuzzling the hot skin and hair at the base of Jensen’s dick until he’s half hard. Then he sucks the tip into his mouth. Jensen is moaning above him, carefully threading a hand in Misha’s hair, but as soon as Jensen’s hard and bucking his hips forward, Misha pulls away. “Not yet,” he tells Jensen, a hand on his hip to push him in the direction of the bed. “Get on your hands and knees.”

“Doggy style?” Jensen sounds like he tries to come across as confident, but Misha can tell there’s a hint of uncertainty.

“Uh, like that, yes” Misha says, and quietly goes to pick up the smallest of the spreader bars. It’s only about a foot and a half long, with a leather cuff attached to each end. He walks around Jensen, to the side of the bed where his hands are. His eyes widen as soon as he sees the spreader bar, but Misha hushes him with a kiss. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. Just don’t want you to walk away.”

“But-“ Jensen starts to protest and Misha smiles before kissing him again.

“No buts, not now. It’s nothing different from when you tie me up,” he teases, although it rather is.

Jensen has tensed up, but he doesn’t run away, so Misha counts that as a win. He secures the cuffs around Jensen’s wrists so he’s able to lean on his hands and on his elbows, and perhaps move around a little, but not able to reach down to touch himself as that would make him lose his position. Then he moves back to the blanket on the floor and pulls out the second, longer spreader bar. There are no cuffs but long ropes connected to each end, and Misha starts by winding two separate lengths of soft cloth around Jensen’s legs, right above his knees. Then he loops the rope around that a couple of times before securing it with a knot. He wants Jensen to be tied up, but he doesn’t want to scare him with anything too elaborate.

“Are you okay?” he asks, checking because Jensen’s looking a little shaky on his arms and legs. And although Jensen nods, he doesn’t look at Misha. “I’m going to get you some more water to drink, you have to calm down. It’ll be good.”

Jensen nods again, and Misha takes some time in getting the water. He briefly thinks about dropping in a diuretic, but that would be cheating and at this rate, Jensen should have to go to the toilet soon enough.

He feeds it to Jensen, kissing away the cold and sweet water in between Jensen drinking. Some of the water drips down Jensen’s chin, so Misha licks it away and Jensen leans into his touch.

“Are you alright?” he asks again, and Jensen huffs out a laugh.

“Apart from feeling like I’m about to burst, because you’re a sneaky bastard and led me in here without letting me go to the toilet, yeah.”

“Mm,” Misha hums happily, satisfied that he won’t have to wait around for too long. “Good.”

He leaves Jensen again, just for a little while this time, to put away the glass and get the bag of toys from the living room. He also gets a towel from the bathroom, before digging in to check if everything he needs is there.

Jensen looks shocked the moment Misha walks in with the sports bag in one hand and a stick with feathers on the tip in the other. He doesn’t say anything so Misha simply smiles and sits down on the foot end of the bed, next to Jensen. He starts to tease the feathers along Jensen’s skin—first just his stomach and arms, which he responds to like it tickles, before moving to his legs. 

“Stop it,” Jensen groans, and Misha huffs out a breath.

“Why?”

“It’s too fucking girly, that’s why,” Jensen snaps at him. His legs are trembling and Misha can’t tell if Jensen is angry, or so aroused that he can’t stay still, although he’s willing to put his bets on the latter.

“Why is this girly?” Misha pushes the feathers in Jensen’s face.

“The feathers are _purple_ , Misha,” Jensen tells him and Misha shrugs, looking at them and fingering them briefly before putting them back on Jensen’s skin. 

“Girly isn’t bad. Girls are nice. Girls are _great_ ,” Misha tells him, “so I don’t see how that’s an issue.” That’s a bit of a lie, because he sees how it could be a problem for Jensen. He knows that he grew up in Texas and his way of thinking is adjusted to their conservative ways. Misha likes teasing Jensen into thinking differently, though, so he moves closer to Jensen’s legs so he can drag the feathers along his balls.

“ _Oh,_ ” Jensen’s hips stutter forwards, his cock twitching as Misha continues to draw the feathers down to his balls and up to his exposed hole. 

“Yeah,” he whispers in Jensen’s ear. “Not so _girly_ now, huh?”

Jensen doesn’t respond right away so Misha continues. “So, is treating your fans like you like them too girly too?” Jensen’s head snaps up at Misha and Misha raises his eyebrows. “’Cause you were pretty good at ignoring everyone you didn’t know, last con.”

“I don’t care,” he tells Misha, so Misha gets up. He’d expected resistance from Jensen, and he’s not going to let Jensen talk so much he doesn’t have to listen. The ball gag is pretty near the top as well, and Misha grabs it. 

“Open your mouth,” he tells Jensen, and when he won’t reply, he starts talking again. “I don’t like it that you treat your fans like they are shit. You should at least smile at them outside the panels. Goddamn, a pig gets treated better than you.”

Sure enough, Jensen opens his mouth to protest so Misha quickly shoves in the gag and fastens it behind Jensen’s head. He looks affronted, glaring at Misha as he tries to push the gag from his mouth with his tongue.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna work. You know, that’s how your fans feel too when they meet you. Like they are forced to shut up because you look at everything but them, and can’t even be bothered to look at where you’re signing.” It’s something Misha can understand, sort of, because he doesn’t always have good days either, but—“You’re an actor. You’re getting paid for this. Show them some respect, please. If you don’t care, at least _act_ like you care.”

And it feels like he’s telling Jensen off; like he’s Jensen’s parent, and that’s not how they work. He drops on his knees in front of Jensen, gently stroking up and down his arms before cupping his head and leaning in for a kiss. “I do love you, _fuck_ , believe me, I do. But how much do you like getting treated like shit?”

Jensen shakes his head. He looks ashamed, unable to meet Misha’s eyes, so Misha moves back up the bed so he can touch Jensen. He’s still hard, so Misha flicks the feathers against the tip of Jensen’s dick until his hips are moving again and desperate noises are escaping his mouth.

“I don’t want you to act like that again,” he tells Jensen finally, unbuckling the gag because— _oh_ , because he’d wanted to leave it on to punish Jensen, but Misha can’t stand to not hear him. He loves Jensen’s voice, is addicted to it; gets off on it more than on anything else. 

“Fuck,” Jensen gasps when it’s gone. “I’m sorry,” he tells Misha, “I’m so sorry, Mish, I just—I don’t-“  
Misha hushes him, pressing kisses to his face and over his wet eyes. “I know, I know,” he tells Jensen, shushing him before he can work himself into a frenzy. He tries to be kind as possible before getting up again and looking down at his lover. “Just don’t do it again, or I’ll punish you. And it won’t be as nice as this.”

Jensen looks up at him, scared and uncertain, but Misha doesn’t try to put him to comfort this time. Instead, he walks out without saying anything, needing a couple of deep breaths before he gives in and lets Jensen have everything he could possibly want. Misha briefly presses his palm against his dick, throbbing in his jeans. Then he gets a clean glass, fills it with water, and drinks it himself. He refills it and takes it to Jensen.

“Have something to drink,” he says quietly, “you have to calm down.”

Jensen nods, even though Misha notices the tremor that runs down his legs, and opens his mouth so Misha can help him drink. Once he’s finished it, Jensen looks up at Misha with a look like he wants to ask something, but he doesn’t. 

“I’d fuck you, you know,” Misha drops, casually. He wasn’t going to say it, but he’s been thinking about it all day and it just comes out. “I—no, I want to fuck you. Very badly.” 

“No,” Jensen says immediately.

“Yes,” Misha replies. “It’s not girly.”

“It-“ Jensen starts, glares, and shuffles a little. “It really kind of is. I’m not taking it up the ass.”

Misha sighs, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. “I—Fuck, I know we’ve discussed this before. And I know I’ve said before it’s not girly. But it’s really—I don’t understand, what exactly is girly about having another guy’s dick up your ass?”

Jensen is shrugging and Misha isn’t going to look at him now, not when he’s got Jensen spread out for him. He looks down at Jensen’s back, and presses a couple of random kisses to it before moving further down. When he gets to Jensen’s hole, he can hear Jensen’s breathing speed up—typical, the few times that Misha got him off with his fingers, Jensen _loved_ it before deciding he was too scared to try it. Instead of using his fingers this time, he presses a kiss to Jensen’s skin. Then he licks a long line along Jensen’s crack, including his hole.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Jensen moans, moving himself back to press against Misha. Misha doesn’t comment on it, instead keeps up the teasing flicks with his tongue. Jensen is clenching and unclenching his muscles, and Misha takes advantage of that to press his tongue in in one swift motion. When he puts his hands on Jensen’s thighs to keep himself steady, he can feel the way the muscles are straining and shivering.

Right when Jensen is getting really into it, pushing back on Misha’s face and moaning loudly, grasping at the sheets for more leverage, Misha pulls away.

“Not yet,” he whispers into Jensen’s skin, no matter how much he regrets it. He does need a piss though, and Jensen needs to be taught a lesson.

He gets the cock ring first, though, and slips it on Jensen. It should keep him going from going flaccid now, and from coming too soon later on. 

Then he walks away, ignoring Jensen’s noises of protest (and he’s deliberately not listening to the way he says, “ _Please, Misha_.” He pretends his cock doesn’t twitch in his jeans, and tries to ignore the fact he has to think of the queen of England and both presidents Bush in consecutive order to will his erection down enough to pee, and what that says about his infatuation with Jensen and his body). He washes his hands, looks at himself in the mirror and sees how flushed he is. Just the thought of Jensen spread for him like that in the next room has him growing hard again, so Misha unbuttons his shirt and drops it to the floor in the hope to at least relieve some heat. 

The cool air feels nice to his overheated skin when he returns to Jensen. Once there, he presses his body to Jensen’s, making sure that he can feel how hard Misha is.

“That,” he tells Jensen, “is what happens when I think of fucking you. Every fucking time.” As if on command, his dick twitches and Jensen groans.

Misha drags his fingers down Jensen’s ass, dry, and rubs at the tight ring of muscle. Again, Jensen starts moaning and Misha wishes that he didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to pressure Jensen into doing this, because he knows that he’ll love it. Then he slicks up his fingers with some lube, and slowly pushes one of them in.

“Fuck,” Jensen moans, “oh, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , come on,” he whimpers and Misha almost comes right on the spot. 

“You like that, Jen?” he asks and Jensen nods, pushing back on Misha’s fingers as he continues to bite back moans. It’s one thing, at least, that Misha’s certain of. As soon as Jensen is horny enough, he’ll let Misha do anything to him. His muscles are clenching around him as if he’s trying to remember what it feels like to have a part of Misha inside of him, and Misha slowly slides them in and out before pressing down.

“GOD!” Jensen shouts, suddenly freezing up.

“What’s wrong?” Misha asks, although he can hazard a guess.

Jensen sounds more desperate when he starts to talk again. “I have to go, fuck, Mish, I don’t think you can fuck me, I have to-“ he rambles, trying to get away from Misha’s hands even though Misha just follows Jensen wherever he moves, pressing down against the swell of his bladder, sometimes accidentally skimming his prostate. 

“Go where?” he teases Jensen. “You got a scene to film?”

“No,” Jensen groans, apparently still unsure whether he still wants to fuck back on Misha’s fingers or not like he claimed just now, because he’s making small movements with his hips and they feel over-controlled, uptight in the way Misha got to learn Jensen was when they first met. 

“Then I think you’re fine,” he says, pushing his fingers right across Jensen’s prostate, making him scream and grab the blankets, a spurt of urine escaping before he clamps back down on Misha’s fingers. “Yeah, you are. Fine.” His own voice is rough when he speaks and his dick is pressing hard against his zipper. 

He pulls out and Jensen’s body sags a little, Misha hears his sigh of relief and smirks to himself. Then he finally allows himself to strip down—jeans and boxers in one go, kicking off his socks along with them until he’s naked and his clothes lay somewhere in a corner. 

He doesn’t bother with a condom; they’re both clean and when they do this the other way around Jensen doesn’t usually get one either. He squirts some of the cold lube right onto his dick, enjoying the way his erection goes a little soft at the onslaught. Then he spreads it with a few quick strokes, and without giving himself more time to enjoy that and perhaps get off on accident, he stands behind Jensen. He pulls at Jensen’s hips, dragging him towards his hips so Jensen’s legs are bracing him and Misha can feel the spreader bar against his knees when he moves forward. 

He slowly pushes in, one hand guiding his dick while his other hand is on Jensen’s ass, keeping him steady and open. Jensen is making desperate noises underneath him, and Misha can feel the way his entire body is now trembling. 

He slowly rolls his hips, just once, his eyes rolling back in his head at the glorious hot-silk heat tight around his dick. It’s better than the best blowjob, and although Misha would definitely like to let go now, he can’t. Not just yet. Instead he leans up over Jensen, forcing his dick in just a little further, before he wraps an arm around Jensen’s waist and pushes his hand flat against Jensen’s dick, so it’s trapped against Jen’s stomach. Misha can feel all the muscles working, and he can feel the light swell of Jensen’s full bladder under it all.

He can’t help himself at that, a surge of arousal shooting through his body that makes his hips buck on their own accord. Still holding Jensen, Misha starts to fuck him, easily sliding in and out of Jen’s body. He looks down a couple of times, straightening up so he can see his dick slide in and out of his boyfriend’s ass. 

Jensen, in the mean time, can’t stay quiet anymore. Misha loves the way he groans and moans, the way he shouts whenever Misha manages to hit his prostate, how he whines whenever Misha stops moving to find a slightly different angle. He’d known that Jensen would love this; it’s just that he’d also known Jensen would never let him do this to him. Fuck, it’s great though. Jensen is tight and vocal, two of the things Misha likes best.

It’s no surprise that he can barely last a couple of minutes. He can feel Jensen leak piss onto his fingers every few of his thrusts, each accidental spurt accompanied by a choked sob and the clenching of muscles, and Misha starts to fuck Jensen harder, faster, to reach his own climax and Jensen’s limit. 

When Misha comes, it’s with several hard thrusts of his hips and a loud moan. He shakes Jensen and the bed with that, and Jensen gasps, his cock twitching in Misha’s hand.

He stays pressed close to Jensen, staying inside of him even as his dick goes flaccid. Then he whispers, “You know, Jen, I’d have thought you’d be more sociable.” Jensen just shakes in response, and Misha hopes he’s not going to collapse on the bed. He wants to see this, feel this. “Because I know how lovely you are in private. I just wish you’d show your fans that side, they probably know you pretty damn well. Realize you’re-”

“For God’s sake,” Jensen finally groans, “shut up.”

Misha looks at his shoulders, tight with tension, and when he rubs his thumb over the head of Jensen’s cock, he gets a glimpse of a tear-streaked face.

“I can do that,” he tells Jensen’s back. “But only that.” He can smell Jensen’s sweat, his entire body flushed with effort.

“Yeah, well, you can let me go too,” Jensen whines.

“No,” Misha tells him, this time pinching Jensen’s erection. “I can’t. It’s your punishment.”

“You-“ Jensen sobs, and then he goes quiet. 

Misha waits for it. His hand’s still on Jensen’s dick and the head of his dick is inside Jensen’s ass, and he can feel all of his muscles work hard. There’s no way he’s going to last now.

He pushes his thumb against Jensen’s dick again, right over the small slit at the top. Sometimes he rubs a little, other times he keeps still. When it comes, though, he can feel it.

It’s a small burst of pee at first, just like before. This time, though, it’s soon followed by another longer spurt, and then Jensen is pissing, no matter how hard he tries to stop himself. The stream is hard and hot, and Misha shivers as his own cock twitches inside Jensen. He closes his eyes and leans his head on Jensen’s back while he uses his hand to aim Jensen’s dick up. 

Misha can hear the way the piss hits off Jensen’s stomach, the way Jensen shakes even harder and makes desperate moaning sounds as he continues to let go. Because he’s pissing through his erection, it’s getting everywhere—Misha can feel cooling spatters hit his legs and he knows that Jensen’s arms and legs must be sprayed by now. Perhaps his jaw too. Maybe even his face. 

By the time Jensen relaxes, the trembling fading and the lines of his shoulders sloping until he’s leaning on his elbows, hands stretched forwards, by the time he’s pushed the last few drops from his bladder—well, Misha’s hard again. He’d suspected he might be, but to have gone through the cycle of fucking, softening, hardening and ready to go again inside of Jensen’s body—while he was peeing, of all things—is more of a turn on than he could possibly have imagined.

“Jensen,” he says, and his voice comes out as a growl, rough with need. “I—I’m going to fuck you again, really hard this time, and you have one chance to tell me to stop.”

“No,” Jensen groans, his voice muffled by the arm he’s resting his head on.

It’s easy to fuck Jensen this time around. He’s still loose from before, slick with lube and Misha’s come, and he’s more relaxed because he doesn’t have a full bladder. Because he knows he’ll enjoy it and Misha won’t laugh at him for it. Misha pounds into him, hard and fast, and Jensen _can take it_ , shows Misha that he can by pushing back on him and moaning loudly in what can’t be anything but undulated pleasure. 

“Oh god, Jensen, you feel so good,” Misha tells him in gasps and stuttering exhales. “Wanted this for so long, you feel perfect, so-“

And Jensen tenses up under him again, nearly collapsing as he tries to put one hand on his dick, forgetting there is a spreader bar on his wrists. Misha does it for him instead, curling a fist tight around Jensen’s cock—with drying piss still on it. There’s plenty of precome dripping in strands from the tip and Misha uses it to slick up the skin and jerk Jensen off in time with the thrusts of his hips. 

It doesn’t take long at all before Jensen comes, dropping his head into the sheets and moaning as he strains to spread his legs even further, pushing his hips back and forth between Misha’s hand and his dick, like he’s not sure which of the two he likes better. Misha can feel the twitches in Jensen’s dick, the telltale hardening of his flesh. The shocks rocking his body. He fucks Jensen through it, and then he pulls out, still hard, to kneel and look at the mess Jensen made.

The sheets are soaked and Jensen’s arms are dripping with piss. Misha runs a hand along Jensen’s thigh and finds that the same goes for the skin there. His stomach is shining and a drop pearls on Jen’s nipple, and Misha resists the urge to lean in and lick it off. On top of the dark-wet sheets, he can see several stripes of pearly come, one having shot as far up as Jensen’s elbow, sliding down to meet the sheets.

Misha jerks himself off as he watches Jensen amidst the mess, his face flushed but relaxed, seemingly unbothered by his restraints now that he’s not desperate for anything. When he’s about to come, Misha stands up and pushes his dick between Jensen’s slick asscheeks, rutting against him until he’s coming all over Jen’s back. Jensen sighs and sags a little further when he feels Misha’s spunk, and Misha gives himself a minute to catch his breath.

His knees feel weak, and his fingers feel clumsy, but he starts to pull at the knots around Jensen’s legs anyway. They come off easily, and Misha throws the bar back onto the floor. Jensen stays in position, and Misha moves around the bed to untie his wrists.

After that, he helps Jensen up off the bed. Although Misha is a bit sticky, Jensen is an absolute mess. Misha’s come is dripping down his back and between his legs, his limbs and chest are covered in drying piss, and some of his own come is smeared not only on his elbow but also on his chin. His eyes are red, his nose is red, but he looks more sated than Misha has seen him in—than he’s seen him _ever_. 

He sets Jensen down on the toilet seat, and then turns on the shower. After that, he goes back into the bedroom to quickly pull the sheets from the bed and stuff them in a plastic bag. He’ll wash them tomorrow, or the day after, or he could just throw them away—he doesn’t really care. Misha wipes a wet towel over the plastic cover he put over the mattress earlier, and then hurries back into the shower because it should have heated up by now and he doesn’t want to spill all the hot water.

First he maneuvers Jensen into the cubicle, and then he pushes himself up behind Jen. He scrubs Jensen down with a washcloth and some soap, rinsing away all of the mess, and Jensen leans heavily against him so Misha is nearly clean by the time he gets to himself. He just wipes down his general crotch area, before dropping the cloth and slipping a hand between Jensen’s asscheeks.

Jensen turns his head into Misha’s neck and asks him, ”Checking if I’m still slick?”

“Yeah,” Misha confesses, and Jensen is, fuck, he is. Sometimes, he misses being seventeen. As it is, though, he pulls his hand away to turn off the spray and grab a towel.

When they’re both dry, they step into boxers. Misha eyes Jensen appreciatively—he’ll never get tired of what he looks like, with or without clothes—and drags him to the couch. “You okay?” he asks, making Jensen sit down.

“ Yeah,” Jensen responds, and he’s smiling. “Yeah, I am. And uh—I’m sorry. If I hurt you by how I treated the fans.”

Misha was on his way to the kitchen, but he turns around to look at Jensen. “You realize it’s not—it’s not me you should say sorry to, right? It’s the fans.”

Jensen flushes a little, but he nods anyway. Misha scratches at his throat as he gets Jensen something to drink—fruit juice, since he’s afraid that Jensen might connect beer or water to something else now. When he’s made sure that Jen’s going to drink it, and isn’t hungry or needs anything else right now, he goes to make the bed.

Together they snuggle up under the clean blankets, with Jensen on his back and Misha on his stomach, half-sprawled across Jensen with his head tucked under Jen’s chin.

He sighs, once, happily, before he gives in to sleep and closes his eyes.


End file.
